The list of television anthology series is quite a long one, even if one restricts oneself to those whose remit is to dabble in the arena of the unearthly or the bizarre. Famous examples abound, such as Tales of Tomorrow (1951-1953), Rod Serling's legendary The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) and the more sci-fi oriented The Outer Limits (1963-1965) - not to mention HBO's long-running EC Comics-inspired ghoulishly cackling Tales from the Crypt (1989-1996). From 1961 to 1963 watchers of US network NBC would witness horror legend Boris Karloff hosting tales of suspense and the supernatural in Thriller, but little did these enraptured viewers know that the erstwhile Mr Pratt was not a novice in the art of introducing a selection of eerie vignettes - as he had, three years earlier, filmed a very similar series entitled The Veil wherein he would also perform the duties of host and occasional guest star. But their ignorance of this occurrence can be forgiven, because by the caprice of fate The Veil had - like its title suggests - remained shrouded in mystery, unseen and forgotten. Falling victim to behind the scenes strife and the collapse of a financing deal, not enough episodes were completed before production was forced to shut down to sell to any network or put into syndication run. Therefore Karloff's The Veil dwelt in darkness, save for a selection episodes that were edited together into a trilogy of portmanteau TV movies (Jack the Ripper, Destination Nightmare and the eponymous The Veil respectively) until its rediscovery in the 1990s and subsequent (long delayed) release to the public on DVD.
The series itself started as something of a spin-off: the 'pilot episode' (entitled 'The Vestris') was actually produced as the twenty-fifth episode of the third season of Telephone Time (produced, like The Veil, by Hal Roach Studios and a shining example of 1950s US television's wanton display of corporate sponsorship - with its opening intro of "The Bell Telephone System presents..." - like other shows of the era such as The Philco Television Playhouse, The Alcoa Hour and General Electric Theater all proudly wearing their sucking of the corporate schlong of The Man proudly on their sleeves). The episode was introduced, as usual, by 'Dr Research' himself Professor Frank Baxter (also the host/narrator of 1956's Our Mr Sun and the US airings of the groundbreaking 1961 15-part Shakespeareathon An Age of Kings), who informs the viewer that the story was "first written down by a distinguished American of the 19th century", the Glasgow-born writer, diplomat, politician, Spiritualist and social reformer Robert Dale Owen.
The episode unfolds upon the titular barque Vestris, embarking upon an Atlantic voyage from "Plymouth, Ingerland" in Dr Baxter's words (PLYMOUTH: 1828!) to Boston in the spring of the eighteen-twenties. The crew of mostly British and Irish expatriate actors - including Torin Thatcher (soon to be a star of such genre classics as the Nathan Juran-helmed twin spin The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad [1958] and Jack the Giant Killer [1962]) as skipper Robert Norrich - lend a feeling of verisimilitude to proceedings talking place on a Culver City soundstage. An exception is the captain's wife, Mary Norrich. Played by New Orleans actress Rita Lynn, Mrs Norrich's accent seems to be in roughly the same mid-Atlantic position as the ship - which, coupled with some oddly out of place archaisms in the dialogue ("'Tis nothing!" for example) for the 1820s, gives the impression of an Amish theatre troupe mounting a performance. Still, co-star Tommy Duggan would later even the scales by putting on a pretty dreadful American accent as the unfortunate Senator Alcott in the 1971 Doctor Who story 'The Mind of Evil' in which he dies wearing a frankly horrible dressing gown - so perhaps Ms Lynn wins out in the end.
Mrs Norrich is suffering from a melancholy mal de mer during the voyage, haunted by voices from the lonely sea ("Even in my dreams, i hear them...") that make her certain that some disaster is looming on the horizon. Her Cassandra-like utterings dismissed by her husband as the idle fancies of a mind bored by "the monotony of seeing nothing but water" and that she should gain her "sea mind" along with her sea legs, Mrs Norrich is pushed further into embarking upon a voyage to Freak-Out City when she retreats to her cabin only to be confronted by a silent spectral harbinger (Karloff the Uncanny himself). Collapsing in fright, some deck hands rush to her aid and her husband enters to find his wife sprawled exhausted on the floor and surrounded by seamen. Finding no sign of the tall and thin mysterious stranger of whom she speaks ("His face was like that of death!"), Cap'n Norrich grows more convinced of his wife's bourgeoning hysteria until he notices the words Turn North West have been scrawled upon a chalk slate by some unknown hand - prompting a search for a stowaway on board.
Mary's nights of sleep continue to be plagued by signs and portents, as voices urge her to convey the message that the ship should stab northwestwards, driving her to wander the ship's fog-shrouded deck at night in her nightgown like a ghost and pleading with her husband to change course. "There's something at work here, some power beyond our understanding!" she argues when Norrich refuses to take the ship into the Arctic ice floes, before giving in to a spouse Guided by Voices and serving as
A slight but intriguing tale of interwoven destinies and ominous omens that prove to be blessings in disguise, 'The Vestris' is a worthwhile half hour of vintage 1950s television that i'm glad finally emerged from the oubliette of the forgotten to be enjoyed. Hello, sailor.
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